The Wonder-Working Magician Part 17

SCENE III.

CLARIN and The Demon.

CLARIN. Ungrateful fair, who still my heart doth hold, Not burning Libya sure, but Livia cold, The time is come to show Whether in love you have been true or no, Whether, since I within this cave was placed, Not chased by me you have yourself been chaste; For I have studied here At second hand some magic for a year, Just to find out (alack! I can't but wince) Whether with Moscon you have wronged me since:-- Ye watery skies (some people call them pure) List to my conjurations I conjure, Mountains....

DEMON. How, Clarin?

CLARIN. Oh! my master wise!

By the concomitance of my hands and eyes, I've learned some magic, and would know by it If Livia, that ungrateful little chit, Has played me false since I have been away, Embracing that rogue Moscon on my day.

DEMON. Have done with these buffooneries: leave me, go.

And 'mid these intricate rocks whose paths you know, a.s.sist your master, who will let you see (If you would witness such a prodigy) The end of all his woe.

I wish to be alone.

CLARIN. And I not so.

I now perceive Why to use magic I have not your leave, The fault was mine, neglecting to attest My bond, and sign it with the blood of my breast.-- [He takes out a soiled pocket-handkerchief.

Upon this linen handkerchief (None cleaner he can have who cries for grief) I'll sign it now, the method I propose Is but to give myself a box on the nose, For there is little harm Whether the blood is drawn from nose or arm.

[He writes with his finger on the handkerchief, after having drawn some blood.

I, the great Clarin, say, if I can level Pert Livia's cruel pride, whom I give to the devil....

DEMON. Leave me, I say again, Go seek your master and with him remain.

CLARIN. Yes, I will do so, don't get angry though.

The reason you reject my bond I know: 'Tis this, because you see, Do what I will that you are sure of me.

SCENE IV.

The Demon.

DEMON. Abyss of h.e.l.l prepare!

Thyself the region of thine own despair.-- From out each dungeon's dark recess Let loose the spirits of voluptuousness, To rain and o'erthrow Justina's virgin fabric pure as snow.

A thousand filthy phantoms with thee brought So people her chaste thought That all her maiden fancies may be filled With their deceits; let sweetest notes be trilled From every tuneful grove, And all, birds, plants, and flowers, provoke to love.

Let nothing meet her eyes But spoils of love's delicious victories, Let nothing meet her ears But languid sighs that listening pa.s.sion hears: That thus unguarded by the faith, and weak, She here may Cyprian seek Invoked by his strong spell, And by my blinding spirit lured as well.

Begin, in silence I will here remain Unseen, that you may now begin the strain.

[Exit.

SCENE V.

JUSTINA; music within. [They sing within.]

A VOICE. What is the glory far above, All else that life can give?

CHORUS OF VARIOUS VOICES. Love love.

A VOICE. No creature lives on which love's flame Has not impressed its burning seal, The man feels more who love doth feel Than when Life's breath first warmed his frame.

Love owns one universal claim,-- To Love, it only needs To Be,-- Whether a bird, a flower, a tree: Then the chief glory, far above All else in life must be....

CHORUS [within]. Love, love.

JUSTINA [alarmed and restless]. Fancy, flatter that thou art, Though thou should'st be sad to-day, When did I to thee impart, In this strange and sudden way, Licence to afflict my heart?

What thus makes my pulses move?

What strange fire is this I prove Which each moment doth increase?

Ah! this pain that ends my peace, This sweet unrest, ah, what?

CHORUS. Love, love.

JUSTINA [more composed]. 'Tis that enamoured nightingale Who thus gives me the reply:-- To his partner in the vale Listening on a bough hard by Warbling thus his tuneful wail.

Cease, sweet nightingale, nor show By thy softly witching strain Trilling forth thy bliss and woe, How a man might feel love's pain, When a bird can feel his so.

No: it was that wanton vine That in fond pursuit has sought The tall tree it doth entwine, Till the green weight it hath brought Makes the n.o.ble trunk decline.

Green entwining boughs that hold What you love in your embrace, Make my fancy not too bold:-- Ah, if boughs thus interlace, How would clasping arms infold!-- And if not the vine, 'twill be That bright sunflower which we see Turning with its tearful eyes To its sun-G.o.d in the skies, Whatsoe'er his movements be.

Flower thy watch no longer keep, Drooping leaflets fold in sleep, For the fond thought reappears, Ah, if leaves can shed such tears, What are those that eyes can weep!

Cease then, lyrist of the grove, Leafy vine, unclasp thy arms, Fickle flower, no longer move, And declare, these poisoned charms That you use, what yields?

CHORUS [within]. Love, love.

JUSTINA. Love! it cannot be. Its chain Have I ever worn for man?

No, the fond deceit is vain.

All received a like disdain, Lelius, Florus, Cyprian.

Lelius did I not despise?

Florus did I not detest?

Cyprian, the good and wise,

[She pauses at Cyprian's name and resumes for a time her unquiet manner.

Spurn with such a haughty breast, That he vanished from my eyes, As if frightened by their ire?-- Where he went I do not know.

But save this, the faintest fire Love e'er lit, ne'er dared to glow In the depths of my desire.

Yes, for since I said that he Should submit without appeal Never more my face to see, Ah, I know and what I feel!-- [She grows calmer.

Pity it must surely be, That a man so widely known Should through love of me be lost, When he pays at such a cost For the preference he has shown.

[She becomes troubled again.

Were it pity though, 'tis true, The same pity I should give Lelius and to Florus too, Who in separate dungeons live, Ah! for daring me to woo.

[She grows calmer.

But my thoughts, ye mutinous crew, If my pity is enough It should not be clogged by you.